She Will Be Loved
by justanon2
Summary: The Second War is over, and Harry Potter has defeated Lord Voldemort. What's left behind is old hatred, a broken betrothal, and two Death Eaters whose feelings for each other have yet to be expressed. This is a DracoPansy fanfic, and the first I ever wrot
1. Trouble

**Chapter One: Trouble**

_Beauty queen of only eighteen_

_She had some trouble with herself_

-- She Will Be Loved, Maroon 5

She was not the most gorgeous of girls, but, then again, neither was he the most gorgeous of guys. Well now, that was a lie, for Draco Malfoy was certainly a most gorgeous guy. He had that sinister white smile, those gorgeous icy eyes, that platinum blonde hair, and those Quidditch muscles. So, Pansy thought, it was normal to like him.

"No, I go well beyond like and way into the territory of love," Pansy thought as she, Daphne Greengrass, and Millicent Bulstrode sat in the corner of Hog's Ear, the new pub in Hogsmeade. The Hog's Head had been destroyed during the final battle of the Second War again Voldemort, one that all three of these women had participated in, although on different sides.

Pansy had been a Death Eater for sure, loving every minute of it. Despite the fact that Daphne has tried to turn her and Millicent to the side against Voldemort, Pansy never would have done it. She was a Death Eater by both birth and ideals, and she would never have turned against the Dark Lord.

Of course he had lost, as everyone had known he would. That damned Harry Potter had just been too strong for the Dark Lord. Pansy had not wavered in her support for him, and that, as her parents had told her on their deathbeds, had been a sign of bravery.

Luckily, she had not been one of the most active of Death Eaters, seeing as she was quite the noticeable girl. Pansy was tall, a fairly normal weight, and had long, curly blonde hair. She may not have been quite so pretty, but what was most noticeable about her was her eyes. During a very awful battle of the Second War, she had been hit by some kind of strange spell and it had changed her eyes from their original color to a deep red.

Her eyes identified her instantly, and although she had tried to change them back to their original color, it hadn't worked. She was "scarred" for life, and she had had to deal with that, in her own way. That way was to become as involved in Voldemort's plans as possible, and to help at the only level she could. That level was producing spells.

Although she had told no one, she had been the one to produce the spell that killed Hagrid, Dumbledore, McGonagall, that two-timing bastard Snape, Flitwick, Mrs. Norris and Filch, Percy Weasley, Cornelius Fudge, Dean Thomas, Colin and Dennis Creevy, and of course, Dolores Umbridge. Pansy had gotten quite a kick out of that, seeing as she had always hated the old cow.

Of course, no one knew about that. She had to keep it a secret, for her protection and, during the war, for the good of the Dark Lord. Now it was all over, but Pansy didn't want to draw any more attention to herself than being a former Slytherin and Death Eater brought. Living was all she could do now, and if her secret got out there would be no more of that for her.

"Why Pansy, I believe you're mooning again. Or, should I say mooing?" Millicent taunted, which snapped Pansy out of her reverie. She turned her cold, red stare on Millicent, and that immediately stopped whatever the girl had been about to say.

That was one of the reasons why Pansy was so insecure; the taunting that Millicent and the other girls in Slytherin House had bestowed upon her in all of their nasty grace. Pansy had been slightly chubby at Hogwarts but now, at age 18, she had finally gone on a diet and lost enough weight to look good.

Well, almost.

"I'm not mooning, Millicent," Pansy hissed back, moving her gaze along to Daphne. This girl had never taunted Pansy outright, but she always had that sickening smile on her face whenever the taunting occurred. Now though, the smile was there for a different reason.

"Then why were you staring straight at Draco Malfoy?" Millicent asked just a little too loudly. Pansy leaned low over the table and shook her head, holding a finger up over her mouth in a silencing gesture.

"I was _not_," Pansy admonished, even though she had been.

Even Millicent Bulstrode had to admit that Draco Malfoy was a babe of the first order, especially now that he was a famous Quidditch player. Who wasn't mooning over him? Pansy was still mortified though, an emotion that she was repulsed by. "What kind of Parkinson am I, holding up the family honor with a red face and fat thighs?" Pansy thought morosely as she stood up to leave.

* * *

Draco Malfoy caught up with her about halfway through Hogsmeade. Pansy had felt someone following her, but when she turned around to face her "attacker" she had been shocked to find that it was him. Draco Malfoy, follow her? Why in the world would he do that? And she had no qualms about asking him just that.

"Well, you left the Hog's Ear in quite a huff Pansy," Draco informed her, his voice flat and devoid of emotions. Pansy knew what was going to come out of his mouth next, and she didn't really want to hear it. One of Draco's main character traits was his affinity for making biting remarks. And those remarks certainly bit into her.

"I'm not in the mood for this today, Malfoy," Pansy told him outright, turning on her heel and stalking off. She was not at all surprised when he followed her.

It had always been like this, ever since their first year. Pansy had mooned over Draco (in private of course) and he had repaid her with nothing but nastiness. Not that she wanted it any other way, although it would have been easy to live without his biting remarks. They always did dig a little too deeply into her insecurities.

"That's why we would never work," Pansy was constantly telling herself. "Draco is splendid at witty, biting comments, and I take them too personally." That was that, she has decided. Draco had always hated her the most, and he always would. She had always loved him the most, and she always would. That was the way of the world, and that _was _that.

"In the mood for what, Parkinson?" Draco asked, his long legs helping him keep a leisurely pace next to her. Pansy inclined her head slightly, just enough so that he could see her scowl. She knew he liked it when she was annoyed, so she was playing along in his little game. No reason not to, seeing as he was going to play it anyway.

"Sod off you bloody prat," Pansy retorted, picking up the pace of her walk. Suddenly, she realized that she could always just Apparate home. "No fun in that, is there? Maybe I can see how much Draco will extract from me before the day is done," Pansy thought wryly, continuing to walk.

"Ooh, Parkinson's getting mad," Draco taunted, his usual insulting prowess not yet fully unsheathed. But, Pansy knew, he was not finished with her yet. So she did not answer, waiting for him to bare his teeth, dripping with venom.

"Parkinson?" Draco asked, sounding a lot less sure of himself this time. At this loss of cockiness (which was _completely _out-of-character for Draco), Pansy stopped short and turned to stare at him. So, he had changed tactics, had he? Well, so would she.

"Draco, what do you really have against me? Why is it that you are always taunting me? Did I do something wrong, do you think? Was it that daft arranged marriage that our parents ended on all four of their deathbeds? Or was it something else Draco? Was it me? Am I that repulsive?" She felt tears prick the edges of her eyes, and knew that it had to stop. But, before she could make a move to Apparate out of there, Draco answered her questions.

"What do you think it was, Parkinson? What else would it be but you? You're ugly, slimy, nasty, fat, and useless. What could you do for the Dark Lord after you let that stupid mudblood, Granger, change your eyes? Nothing, that's what you could do, but you hung around anyway, causing all sorts of problems."

"Causing problems?" Pansy asked, completely appalled. The ugly and fat part had stung, but once Draco had made light of her service to the Dark Lord, she was pissed. But, no words of retaliation came other than those, so she simply waited.

"Why the bloody hell was the Dark Lord calling you at all hours of the day if you weren't causing problems?" Draco asked snidely, a familiar smirk plastered on his face.

"Damn, I forgot that Death Eaters can hear when any other Death Eater is called. I bet they all think I was a nuisance, even Millicent!" Pansy thought, and that was enough for her. The thought of being viewed as a disgrace to the Dark Lord was too much for her to handle. Her parents had thought it, her friends had thought it, her siblings had thought it, and now, she knew, every other Death Eater thought it too.

Right before she Apparated home, Draco could have sworn that he saw tears making noticeable tracks on her cheeks.


	2. An Apology Not Accepted

**Chapter Two: An Apology Not Accepted**

_Tap on my window, knock on my door_

_I want to make you feel beautiful_

_I know I tend to get so insecure_

_It doesn't matter anymore_

-- She Will Be Loved, Maroon 5

"Of course I shouldn't feel horrible," Draco reasoned as he returned to his own home. "But if I shouldn't feel horrible, why do I feel horrible about not feeling horrible?" Draco asked him, pulling a chair out from under a table and sitting down. "Or maybe I _am _feeling horrible about it, but I just think I'm feeling horrible about not feeling horrible about it? Oh, sod off you stupid lug of a brain, there's no need for you now!"

Malfoy Manor was a large, dark, and cold place, somewhere that most normal wizards would not want to live. Of course, Draco was anything but a normal wizard, and he loved it there. It had been his childhood home, and all of his good memories were either there or at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hogwarts, the school of his education, was no more, burned to the ground in the final battle against Dumbledore's Army. It had been during Draco's 7th year, he remembered. It was only a year ago, but the memory was already getting fuzzy. Had he been by his father, and Voldemort's, side when he was struck down? Had he watched as his mother died? Had he killed anyone, stunned anyone, used an Unforgivable on anyone? He would never know the answers to all those questions, but speculation was a good occupation of the mind.

"Better than thinking about that cow Parkinson," Draco told himself firmly. There was to be no more thoughts of Pansy for a while yet, until his head was cleared. "I guess I should get some sleep then; that always seems to do the trick." With a nod and a smile, Draco walked towards, and up, the Malfoy Manor stairs to his room.

* * *

At that very moment, the object of Draco's thoughts was sitting on her bed, thinking about him as well, although he didn't know it. She was currently residing on her bed, tears racing down her cheeks at an alarming rate, and thoughts swirling twice as fast. And all of those thoughts were centered on one man: Draco Malfoy.

"Why does he have such a hold on me?" Pansy wondered aloud, tracing an invisible pattern on her bed sheets. "How does he always know just what to say to hurt me? He doesn't make anyone else cry, not to his face!" Pansy shook her head in disgust and flopped on her back on her bed. "I guess I'm just a regular crybaby."

With that completely non-startling revelation, Pansy fell asleep, dreams of Draco Malfoy seeping into her mind. Unbeknownst to her, Draco was having similar dreams to hers, dreams about himself.

He always had been quite a vain boy.

* * *

Draco Malfoy woke up the next morning with a shriveled face taking up his entire view. "Winkie?" Draco asked sleepily, speaking to the house elf he _thought _was standing over him. Fortunately for him, he was right, and there were no hurt feelings.

"Yes Master Draco, it is Winkie. Would you like for Winkie to make you some breakfast?" the loyal house elf asked. Finally, Draco's eyesight returned to its normal proportions, and he could see the room around him. It was light out, and it seemed to be somewhere around 8:00 am.

"No Winkie, I will be going somewhere for breakfast," Draco informed the house elf coldly, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Winkie nodded, bowed, and disappeared, probably to go clean some random part of the Malfoy Manor.

During the night, Draco had made a decision. It may have been stupid, but he felt bad for making Pansy Parkinson cry. In all the eight years he had known her, she had never once cried in front of him. This was something that he most admired, especially since he had always been particularly nasty to her. It had most likely been their betrothal, which was now null and void, but really, Draco had no reason to be so cruel to the poor girl.

With that in mind, Draco got ready quickly, taking a short hot shower and shrugging into his Quidditch robes. He would have to make his visit to Pansy's short, since he had Quidditch practice (again) at 10:30.

As soon as his Quidditch gear was packed, his clothes on, his hair fixed, and his look perfected, he waved his wand and he was gone.

* * *

Pansy was utterly shocked when she walked downstairs in naught but a bathrobe and found Draco Malfoy standing behind the kitchen sink. "Malfoy? What the fuck are you doing here?" she practically screeched. The look on Draco's face when he saw her was not one of surprise, but it quickly changed to that once he saw what she was wearing.

"Pansy?" he asked, his voice a high-pitched whine and cracking in all the wrong places. He sounded as if he was going through puberty for the second time. The quality of is almost made her start to laugh, but the situation at hand immediately sobered her. Draco Malfoy, the boy who she had loved practically since she had first laid eyes on him, was standing in the middle of her kitchen. And she, Pansy Parkinson, was wearing nothing but her worn old bathrobe.

"Are you surprised to see me, Malfoy? Who were you expecting, your most recent in a long line of slutty conquests?" Pansy asked nastily, grabbing hold of the edge of her bathrobe and pulling it tighter across her chest. "Still the same old self-conscious one, huh Pansy?" she asked herself, never letting go of her robe.

"No, actually I was expecting you, although not looking quite so, _unclothed _as you are," Draco sneered, regaining his composure quite quickly. That was another one of Draco's many good traits, traits which Pansy had a hard time overlooking.

"Perhaps if you hadn't _popped in _at such an ungodly hour, I wouldn't be in this particular state of undress. At this time of day, half of the wizarding world is still asleep," Pansy informed him dryly, beginning her daily breakfast-making routine. With a flick of her wand and a muttered spell, a large plate of bacon, eggs, and sausage appeared on the table. "Would you be liking anything?" Pansy asked as she made her way over to sit down.

"Why yes Pansy, that would be quite lovely," he informed her just as dryly, taking the seat across from her. With another flick and the same muttered spell, a similar plate of food appeared in front of him. With a smirk, Draco picked up the fork that had also appeared and began to eat.

For a few minutes, Pansy was content to simply sit and watch him eat. He was quite pleasant looking when he was eating. "He's always pleasant looking you daft cow," she grumbled to herself. "Now start eating before he notices that something is wrong."

And so she did, start eating I mean. She shoveled the food into her mouth as if she hadn't eaten in days. She was anxious, self conscious, and altogether uncomfortable with the situation. That situation became even more uncomfortable when a head suddenly appeared in the fireplace on her wall. That head belonged to none other than Millicent Bulstrode. "Quick, hide!" Pansy hissed to Draco as she got up, straightened her robes once more, and walked over to the fire.

"G'morning Millicent," Pansy said, pulling a chair over and sitting down on it. Millicent smirked at her and nodded.

"Yes, it is a good morning, isn't it?" Something about the quality of Millicent's voice scared Pansy. "Well, let's just get it out there. I've gotten you, Daphne and I the tickets."

"What tickets?" Pansy asked, genuinely confused.

"Remember, you wanted tickets for one or another of the Quidditch matches coming up some time in the next month? Remember? You wanted to go and learn a little more about Quidditch so you could actually have conversations about something interesting with Daphne and I?" Millicent was rambling, but Pansy did finally remember. With all of the excitement of Draco being at her house, she had completely forgotten about that little request.

"Why yes, I do remember. I'm a bit foggy this morning, sorry for that. Anyway, what day's the match?" Pansy asked. A few minutes later, Millicent's ramblings were complete, and Pansy had a ticket, a date, and a time for the Quidditch match she would be attending. Shortly after, Millicent's head disappeared from the fire.

"That's my game," Draco said from behind her. Pansy nearly had a stroke she was so shocked. Somehow she had completely forgotten that he was there.

"What do you mean that's your game?" Pansy asked as she brought the chair back to its position, sat down, and began to eat again.

"Well, look at the ticket. That's my Quidditch team, isn't it?" Draco asked, pointing out the team names on her shiny new ticket. With a gasp, Pansy realized she was right. "Why that lousy, no good bitch!" Pansy thought, stricken with horror. How could she survive a Quidditch match watching Draco Malfoy play? She knew that it would be virtually impossible to keep her eyes off him, and she also knew that she would learn nothing from this particular match.

"Oh dearie me, I do believe that I will not be able to concentrate on this match at all, with someone as lovely as yourself watching me," Draco taunted, also returning to his seat at the table. Pansy sighed and shook her head; it was too early in the morning for her to think up a witty response to anything he said, and she was getting kind of tired of all this.

"Draco, could you just tell me what the bloody hell it was that you came here to talk to me about, so I can get on with my life?" she asked rudely. Draco was really, _really _grating on her nerves that morning.

"I just came to say sorry about what I said yesterday, is all." It seemed as though Draco was going to stop there, but when he saw the shocked expression on Pansy's face, he continued. "I didn't mean to make you cry, I never do. I only tease you so viciously because you've never cried over anything I've said."

"Not in front of you I haven't," Pansy whispered venomously, cutting into his little speech. At the stricken look on Draco's face, Pansy continued with that vein of discussion. "Honestly Malfoy, do you think that after all the times you've called me a worthless, fat cow that I had never cried? Did you never once think that perhaps I didn't cry in front of you because I was ashamed? Here you were, Draco Malfoy in all of your glory, teasing me about nothing, and I was reacting in a horribly sensitive way. I may be a girl, but that kind of behavior is simply disgraceful for a Parkinson." Pansy took a deep breath, slid back into her chair, and waited.

But the onslaught of insults that Pansy had expected never came. Instead, Draco, looking utterly mortified by what she had said to him. "None of that has ever crossed your mind?" she asked him, and now it was Pansy who was confused.

"No, not really. I guess...I guess I've never really thought much about anyone's feelings," Draco said softly, his voice taking on a new, softer quality that Pansy had never before experienced from him. Pansy had a feeling that she was the only person who _had _ever experienced it from him.

"Obviously not, you daft prat!" Pansy admonished, feeling decidedly annoyed about this whole thing. Draco had come to apologize for something, but his apology was not nearly enough. "Apology not accepted Draco, apology not accepted."


	3. A Declaration of Friendship and a Quiddi...

**Chapter Three: A Declaration of Friendship and a Quidditch Match**

_It's not always rainbows and butterflies_

_It's compromise that moves us along_

_My heart is full and my door's always open_

_You can come anytime you want_

-- She Will Be Loved, Maroon 5

Pansy really would have been able to hold to it, that conviction of not accepting Draco's apology. It was the look on his face that broke her of course, as it always had been. The look of utter shock that had been on his face was replaced with one of sadness. And Pansy had never been able to resist one of Draco's sad, pouty faces.

"Good god Malfoy, you're impossible!" Pansy said.

Suddenly, Draco was up and out of his seat, had launched himself across the room, and was now standing next to Pansy's chair. She swiveled her neck so she could look at him, and she had a feeling that this was going to be one hell of a speech, and one whose like she would never hear again. That second bit was not true, but the first one was.

"Pansy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said to you yesterday, and I'm sorry for what I've said to you in the past. I did not realize that you cared at all what I said to you, and I did not realize that I had made you cry. I feel entirely ashamed at having made another member of my house who was nothing but kind to me suffer from my..." And there he stopped, for he had run out of words. Pansy smiled, happy to finish his speech for him.

"Stupidity?" Pansy asked playfully, patting Draco's shoulder lightly. A smile immediately spread across his features, the first real, genuine smile Pansy had ever seen on his face.

"Yes, I believe you could call it that." A look of complete seriousness crossed Draco's face then, before he continued speaking. "Friends then?"

"Why certainly," Pansy said, and now she was smiling too. "Now get out of my house Malfoy, before I throw you out!"

"Oh, too bad, I thought I might be able to join you in the shower," Draco said with a smirk, backing away from Pansy and into a corner of the room. Pansy stuck out her tongue at him, and he repeated the gesture.

"I've already taken a shower Malfoy, but if you'd like I could always take another one. You certainly need one, with the smell that's coming off you right now," Pansy retorted, just as Malfoy Apparated out of her house. With a huge sigh, Pansy returned to her normal, daily routine.

* * *

Quidditch practice was insanely hard for Draco, possibly because a certain someone currently occupied all of his thoughts. Pansy Parkinson, and what she had said to him that morning, had turned his whole world upside down. He had felt like the nastiness person on the planet when she had told him how she cried, and had felt like the luckiest when she had agreed to be his friend. During his stay at Hogwarts his feelings would most likely have been quite different, but the Second War and its final battle had changed many things about how Draco saw the world.

"Are you going to nod off through the whole practice, or should I expect you back some time today?" Vincent Vole, the captain and Keeper of his Quidditch team, asked. Draco spun his broom around, snatched the Snitch from the air above him, and smirked at the older man.

"Some time today I should think," Draco replied, handing the squirming golden ball to the captain. A similar smirk was thrown back at him, as was the Golden Snitch. Draco quickly spun his broom around and waited, searching the air for any flashes of gold he might be able to glimpse.

Practice was not over soon enough for Draco, and when it was over he was quite happy to return home to Malfoy Manor. The day had been long, interesting, and altogether satisfying, but he was quite tired from it all. Soon he was fast asleep in his bed, dreaming of the Quidditch match that would be taking place a short month later.

* * *

The day of the Quidditch match dawned bright and early, and, as cliché as that may sound, it actually did. Pansy was up at 5:50 am, and in a right fit she was. Every little detail surrounding her, from the color of the ribbon in her hair to how many wrinkles there were in her blouse, had to be perfect, and that was a cause of great distress for the decidedly non-perfectionist tastes of the young woman.

Finally, wearing a decidedly Muggle outfit (Muggle clothes were all the rage in the Wizarding world now) of a light pink, baggy sweatshirt and a pair of comfortable denim jeans and sporting a matching light pink ribbon keeping her hair in a loose bun as well as a fashionable scarf of the same color, she threw some floo powder into the fire and jumped in, going to Millicent's house.

Once there, Pansy met up with her two friends, Daphne and Millicent, and they Apparated to the Quidditch pitch where the game would be played. It was only once they had taken their seats (and very good seats they were) that they realized what team Draco would be playing against; the team that Harry Potter played for. The other thing that they realized at about the same time was that the seats they had acquired were right next to the seats that the Weasley family (which now including, unsurprisingly, Hermione). And they realized it quite at the same moment that the rather gargantuan Weasley brood took their seats.

"Why hello there Hermione," Daphne said politely when Hermione took the seat next to her. "Lovely day for a Quidditch match, isn't it?" Hermione nodded and began talking to Daphne in rapid, quiet words. They had obviously become something akin to friends during Daphne's short stint on the side of "good" during the 2nd war.

"Pansy, Millicent, it's nice to see you," Hermione finally acknowledged them coldly. Pansy shook her head, rolled her eyes, and replied just as coldly.

"Honestly Weasley, I would think that with your superior intellect you would be able to come up with something a little more _interesting _than that," Pansy taunted, leaning back nonchalantly in her seat. Hermione scowled at her but said nothing. Ron Weasley (her husband), however, did not respond in kind.

"Why you slimy little Death Eater, how dare you speak to Hermione like that?" Ron asked nastily, clearly having a bad day.

"Oh for the love of god Ron, I think Hermione can take care of herself. And how was I speaking to her badly, hmm? I was actually complimenting her, if you didn't notice," Pansy responded quickly.

"Speaking to Hermione at all is speaking to her badly. We all know that you are Draco Malfoy's b..." Ron began, but was stopped by something long, thin, and brown pointed right between his eyes.

"It would do you no good to continue that sentence Mr. Weasley," Pansy remarked coldly, as it was her hand that clutched the wand between Ron's eyes. "I would also advise you not to say anything untoward about Mr. Malfoy while around me. He and I are friends, and I do not take kindly to having one of my friends insulted." And with that, Pansy's wand was removed, and Weasley fell back into his chair with a thud.

"That slimy git," Millicent hissed when Pansy too sat down.

"Let's just forget about it, okay? I really don't want to get any more thoughts about Malfoy stuck in my head right now," Pansy whispered into Millicent's ears. She was obviously not quiet enough, because both Daphne and Hermione smirked unkindly at her.

"So, I guess Ron's statement isn't so far from the truth, is it?" Hermione asked, turning her attention from Daphne to Pansy. A look of unbridled horror crossed Hermione's face when she felt the end of Pansy's wand poking sharply into her neck. Then, Pansy's face was right up close to hers, so close that the unwelcome sensation of Pansy's breath caused tears to prick her eyes.

"If you ever, _ever_," she said, particularly venomously, "say anything like that again, you have no idea how quickly I will use _Avadra Kevadra _on your sorry ass!" With a look of pure and utter hatred plastered on her face, Pansy returned to her seat.

* * *

The match began shortly, which was good, because otherwise Pansy might have had a few more choice encounters with the Weasley family. "For purebloods they sure are fucking horrid," Pansy thought as she watched Harry Potter's team emerge from their side of the field, hands clutched tightly around their shiny Fireblots. "Courtesy of Harry's overly large bank account," Pansy thought smugly as she noted the length, width, and make of the brooms the Quidditch team held. They were good, but not quite as good as the brooms Draco had purchased for his team.

And then he emerged, and all of her thoughts turned to him. Draco Malfoy in all of his glory, looking splendid as ever in his Quidditch robes. "Honestly, could that man _be _any more perfect?" Pansy wondered. She didn't realize that she had whispered it aloud until she heard Millicent snickering in the seat next to her. Thankfully, her words had been spoken softly, and no one but Millicent had heard them.

Finally, the match _truly _began, and there was something for Pansy to concentrate on. She actually found it quite hard to follow Draco's movements, seeing as he wasn't doing much of anything. Seekers never did, really. All they had to do was sit there and wait for the snitch to come into view, and then catch it before the other seeker did. Not much to see, not really anyway.

The Chasers were much more interesting, Pansy soon found out. Within minutes of the start of the game, Pansy was completely engrossed. Of course, she had attended every one of the Slytherin Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts, so she knew what was going on. But, she had never really felt any satisfaction, had never really _cared _about what happened. Then, she had just gone to show support for the black & green of her house.

Suddenly, something small and golden caught Pansy's eye. She had always had a good eye for things that needed to be found, which was one of the reasons why she was so good at creating spells for Voldemort. "Look there, it's the Snitch," Pansy whispered in Millicent's ear, pointing towards the golden blur. Millicent nodded with disinterest, her eyes still trained on the Chasers and Keepers.

She knew it the instant that Draco saw the Snitch. She could see the feral, competitive gleam in his eyes, and knew that he was moving in for the kill. With a speed she hadn't known he possessed, he zoomed towards it. Luckily for him, Potter was quite a bit farther from the Snitch than Draco was, and it took Harry quite a bit of time before he realized that Draco was after the Snitch.

By the time Potter got near Draco, it was all over. The Snitch was in his hand, it's golden wings spread wide out the sides of his tight fist. He held it up over his head in triumph, a vibrant smile plastered on his face. Potter's winning streak was over, and all thanks to his old Hogwarts rival, Draco Malfoy. Pansy couldn't have been more proud.


	4. Draco Malfoy and the Unwanted Conquest

**Chapter Four: Draco Malfoy and the Unwanted Conquest**

_I know where you hide_

_Alone in your car_

_Know all of the things that make you who you are_

_I know that goodbye means nothing at all_

_Comes back and begs me to catch her every time she falls_

-- "She Will Be Loved," Maroon 5

She didn't realize what she was doing until she was halfway down the steps that led to the pitch. "I'm going to him," she realized with a shock, and that revelation caused her to stop short. She scanned the close huddle of Draco's team, and finally caught sight of his familiar white-blond hair. She willed him to look up at her, and to bestow upon her the welcoming look of friendship that he had been giving her all month, every day that they had seen one another.

He did soon catch her eye, and his look was just as inviting as usual. He wanted her there, she realized, and she was happy about that. She took up her descent with a renewed passion, jumping down the steps three at a time. But, once she got to the gate that led to the pitch, something stopped her, and that thing was Harry Potter.

"Pansy," he said, his voice flat and emotionless.

"Potter," she replied in much the same tone. He swung the small gate open slowly and, shoulders hunched in defeat, made his way up the stairs that Pansy had just been running down. She shook her head and began to make her way through the open gate, until someone else stopped her.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but no one is allowed on the pitch," the man told her harshly, not sounding sorry at all. Pansy shot him a look of utter distaste, which he shot right back to her.

"You let Potter in," she informed him cooly. He nodded, but did not look fazed in the slightest.

"Yes, I let him _in_, not out," the man told her, voice full of triumph. Pansy squeezed her eyes shut and felt around in her mind for her "quiet place." She didn't want to get angry at anyone right now, when she should be celebrating victory with Draco.

Once her nerves were calmed, she looked up, and was rewarded with the site of Draco being pulled off towards the changing rooms by none other than Millicent Bulstrode. "I'm sure she's just taking him off to congratulate him," Pansy assured herself, turning her gaze once more to the despicable man who would not let her out.

"And why is it exactly that I can't go out on the pitch?" Pansy asked evenly, trying to think of some argument or spell that she could use. Eventually a spell came to her, but she wanted to use it as her last resort.

"Because it's against regulation for _scum _to be left to grow on the Quidditch pitch. I wouldn't want to be going against regulation, would I now?" the man asked with a cocky sneer. Pansy's blood boiled. How dare he say such a thing?

"A dog knows its own," she replied softly, pulling out her wand slowly and holding it behind her back. With a quick flick and a muttered word, the man was lying on the ground and she was walking onto the pitch.

Of course, no one noticed, because she had taken care of that as well.

* * *

He really hadn't wanted to go with her, he remembered quite vividly. He had caught Pansy's eye and was waiting for her, waiting for her to come down and congratulate him in the manner that he deserved. The moment he had grabbed that Snitch, he had realized that something far more important than winning a Quidditch match had happened to him. He was in love, with none other than Pansy "Cow" Parkinson. God, he would never use _that _nickname again, even in jest. It no longer applied.

He had been so dazed with these thoughts that he hadn't noticed Millicent's incessant tugging on his hand. Finally he did notice, but only after that toad of a woman began pulling him off. "Millicent?" he asked, shocked and confused.

"Just shut it Malfoy," Millicent _purred_. Draco shuddered and tried to pull his hand from the woman's grasp, but it didn't work. She has somehow cast a spell on their hands, bonding them together, and had probably done it while he was mooning over Pansy Parkinson.

"Well," he thought, "I guess I should just see what she wants and get it over with." And so he did follow her, although he hadn't much choice.

They were in the locker rooms now, the men's locker rooms. He was in the men's locker room with a woman, and that woman was not the one he would have preferred to be with.

"What do you want?" he finally asked, once they were both sitting on a secluded bench in the room.

"You," Millicent said, grabbing Draco's face and pulling it towards her own, smashing her lips up against his. And that was really what she did. It wasn't even a kiss, but in Draco's eyes. It was just a bashing of faces, a collision, one that he had never, _ever _wanted.

So, of course, that was the moment Pansy chose to walk in on them. "Oh my god..." she said, her voice trailing off into a whisper. Draco, having only been smashing his face against Millicent's for a few seconds and not having had time to pull away, did so then.

He wasn't ready for the tears that he saw pouring down Pansy's rosy cheeks. He wasn't ready for the look of utter horror that he saw plastered on her face. But worst of all, he wasn't prepared for the flooring sense of deep, heartbreaking sadness that he could see in her eyes.

"Wait, Pansy!" he called after her as she scurried out of the locker room. Now Millicent had done it, the old cow. How could she have done something like that to her friend? "Obviously, not all Death Eaters are quite so honorable. Well, I knew that already," Draco thought as he pulled himself up from the bench and followed Pansy out the door.

But he was too late. She was already gone.

* * *

"Fuck you, Malfoy," she hissed as she collapsed onto her bed. Within moments, her whole pillow was soaked through from the tears she hadn't wanted. She had known they were coming, but she had tried to hold them back. He had even seen them, she knew, those tears that she had tried desperately to hide. He liked that she had never cried in front of him, he had told her. "Well, too bloody fucking bad."

"What is?" a voice from behind her asked. She pulled her head out of her pillow long enough to see the object of her tears standing by her bed. With a loud sob, she collapsed back into the safety net that was her soggy pillowcase.

"Pansy..." he began, but she didn't want to her it. She _wouldn't _hear it, not if she had to cast _Avadra Kevadra _on herself to keep it from happening. She didn't want to hear his excuses, his lies.

"Don't even fucking start with me!" she shrieked, abandoning the safety of her pillow for the more even playing field of her bedroom floor. "I don't want to hear you telling me that it was nothing, that you didn't want to kiss Millicent, that you didn't know I was coming, that you didn't know that I loved you!"

The sound of his gasp could most likely have been heard in the States, and it was so convincing that Pansy believed, for a second, that Draco _hadn't _known of her love for him. "Don't deny it, I'm not daft. You're a bloody stupid git, you know that Draco? Maybe Potter's been right about you all along, you know? Maybe I should have joined his side of the game, and maybe I would have come out with more than just the hatred of half the Wizarding world"

Pansy knew she would cut him deeply with that one. For the most loyal Death Eaters, a class that both she and Malfoy belonged to, talking about switching sides was a heinous crime. Draco's mouth was wide open, his eyes round as saucers, and Pansy got a few moments to enjoy the rush of euphoria that she felt. _She_, Pansy Parkinson, had finally succeeded in really and truly pissing Malfoy off.

Of course, because of that, she had never really seen Malfoy mad. And boy, was he mad now. And when Malfoy got angry, he got violent. Perhaps not in his actions, although sometimes that too, but just in his words.

"Pansy," he said, sounding a lot calmer than she was in this situation. "I would like to ask you a very serious question. What is it that you're angry about in the first place?" Pansy gaped at him for a moment, and then reached out a hand as if to take his. When he raised his own she did not, however, take his. She slapped him actually, right across the cheek.

"What kind of question is that, Draco? You know very well that I fancy you, and yet you toy with my emotions in such a manner!" Pansy said after she had retrieved her hand from Draco's face. Now, his hand had replaced hers, and the fire in his eyes burned even brighter. If he had been angry before, he was even angrier now.

"What right do you have to blow up in my face this like this? We're just friends Pansy, and I thought that was all you wanted! If you wanted more, you're certainly going about it the wrong way!" Draco steamed, her voice dripping with venom.

"Now this is the Draco I know how to deal with," Pansy thought, a triumphant smile coming over her face. "Oh, stop making excuses. Everyone, even that Granger bitch and her husband, knows that I fancy you, so your excuses just don't cut it!"

"Granger? Weasley? When did you get a chance to talk to them?" Draco asked, all traces of anger gone from his voice.

"Oh, they had seats next to ours at the Quidditch game. Daphne and Granger are obviously friends," Pansy said, sounding just a little bit annoyed at the "betrayal" of Daphne.

"And I didn't know that you fancied me, because you don't!" Draco hissed, returning to their previous conversation. Pansy quirked an eyebrow and stared at him in disbelief.

"Malfoy, did I or did I not just tell you, in no uncertain terms, at least two times, that I fancied you?"

"But you don't fancy me Pansy," Draco replied, his voice once again taking on a too-calm tone. Something stirred in the pit of Pansy's stomach, something that she knew well to be a feeling of dread. Something was telling her that Draco was loading his gun and was about ready to fire.

"And how do you presume to know what I do and do not feel?" she asked, her heart beating a lot faster, waiting to fall into his trap, for she knew that she would. She always seemed to.

"Because, I'm not unlucky enough to be fancied by someone like you," Draco told her, voice still unreasonably gone. Pansy nearly double over with the shock of it, feeling like a knife had just been jammed into her belly. There wasn't much more Draco could have said to her that would have hurt her so, but that feeling in her stomach, that first one, did not go away.

"Someone like me?" Pansy asked, waiting for him to continue.

"I would only ever be fancied by someone wonderful, someone pretty, someone thin, someone with completely pure blood, someone who was a Death Eater, and someone who **wasn't **a nuisance to the Dark Lord. Someone who would be the exact opposite of you."

Pansy had been right again. The pain from his first words, that knife in the stomach, could not be compared to the knife she now felt inside her, that knife in her heart. And then, as Draco had, she got angry.


	5. The Truth of the Matter and Secrets Told...

**Chapter Five: The Truth of the Matter and Secrets Told **OR **Nastily Ever After**

_Please don't try so hard to say goodbye_

-- "She Will Be Loved," Maroon 5

"I've had enough." Those words, and Pansy's tone, were enough to send chills down Draco's spine, for her knew that she meant it. He also knew that he had gone too far, but Pansy's outburst had maddened him. He wasn't mad at her; no, he was mad at Millicent. She had ruined something that could have been wonderful, ruined it with petty jealousy.

"Do you want to know the truth Draco? The real, honest-to-god truth, because I'm willing to give it to you." Draco nodded, not ready for words at the moment. "I'm sick and tired of you and your bloody annoying mouth talking about me as if I was a nuisance. _No one_ really knows what it was I did for Voldemort, but what it was helped him a whole hell of a lot. "

"And what might that have been, Pansy?" Draco asked, that familiar edge seeping back into his voice. The initial shock of Pansy's tone had worn off, and he was now ready to face her head on.

"Do you remember, Draco, the _Anima Exedo _spell that Voldemort used to kill Dumbledore?" Pansy asked.

"Of course I do. I was there, wasn't I?"

"Well, I made it. _Anima_, Latin for "soul," and _Exedo_, Latin for devour. Do you know what that spell does, Draco? It's the equivalent of a Dementor's Kiss, so while it sucks out the soul it also rejuvenates the caster's soul. I developed it during 6th year." Pansy got it out all in one breath, and then continued. "And that's not the only spell I created for him, Draco. I've always been a staunch supporter of the Dark Lord and you know it! If I had been a nuisance, he would have killed me like he did your father."

There was no pain; her jab at his heart had hit steel instead of flesh. He didn't care about his father, not really. What he did care about, however, was this thing she had claimed to do. He had never really thought about who had created _Anima Exedo_, he had assumed that it was just another of the super-smart Granger-type death eaters who worked in Malfoy Manor.

He had never expected it to be the chubby, annoying little 6th year version of Pansy. "Well, expect the unexpected I guess," Draco thought, shifting from one foot to the other. His feet were beginning to grow tired, so he quickly moved over next to Pansy and sat on her bed. She followed his lead and sat down next to him.

"And how do I know that you're not lying to me, Pansy?" Draco asked, being extremely careful with his choice of words. He didn't really feel like having an even angrier Pansy on his hands than what he had right now.

"I don't know, but if you can't trust me after a month of being friends then I don't know how you'll ever be able to."

"What, I'm going to get a chance? You're not going to shun me for the rest of my life because Millicent Bulstrode decided to be a jealous slut?" Draco asked, careful to lay all the blame for the incident on Millicent, and rightfully so. He had had no intention of kissing the foul toad; he hadn't even gotten a chance to speak up in his own defense!

"No, I guess I won't," Pansy remarked, her voice taking on an edge of... _something_... something that he didn't quite recognize. It was some kind of powerful emotion, admiration perhaps? Devotion? He couldn't quite tell, but at the moment he was a little more preoccupied with her lips.

He had never quite noticed them before, not really. He had always known they were there (obviously), but it was only recently that he had actually _noticed _them. They were a tad bit too full, but it added an endearing quality to her face, one that he quite appreciated.

The urge to kiss her was so sudden that it almost made him fall over. What was even more sudden was his immediate reaction, which was to lean forward, closer to Pansy. Eventually, all of the space between them was gone, and nothing lay between them.

Kissing Pansy was like nothing he had ever experienced. He couldn't very well compare it to kissing Millicent, because that hadn't _really _been a kiss in the first place. He also couldn't compare it to the kisses those of his "slutty conquests," as Pansy had put it, because those kisses had simply been in the midst of a haze of alcohol and amazement at being a star.

This kiss however, this kiss was much more. It was so many different sensations that Draco barely had time to think about it, let along actually believe it was happening. Every place that their bodies touched, which was mostly just lip-to-lip and hands to shoulders, tingled. It was pure heaven, and Draco didn't want it to ever stop.

But it did, as do all things wonderful. But, the ending of this kiss was not so wonderful as Draco had expected it to be. Pansy pulled away so suddenly that he almost smashed right into her as her presence left his side. Within another instant, she was standing over him, a look of pure and utter disgust covering her face. "Oh dear," Draco thought, "This isn't good."

* * *

Pansy was mad. Pansy was steaming. Pansy was so steaming mad that she was surprised her brain hadn't melted from all of the pressure in her head. Oh yes, the kiss had been wonderful, much better than she had ever imagined. And yet, she knew it could have been better still, if the underlying knowledge that he didn't fancy her hadn't kept coming into her head.

_He doesn't really want to be doing this Pansy, _or _He's just caught up in the moment Pansy, _or even _You're just another one of his many conquests Pansy._ What she had wanted to say to those voices was, "Sod off," but she had known, deep in her heart, that those voices were right. Draco had never, didn't, and would never love her, and she couldn't very well kiss him if he didn't love her.

She had pulled away abruptly, and had reacted so quickly that she barely noticed what she had done. Within a few seconds, she was looming over Draco's startled figure, and she was sure that the angry expression on her face rivaled in intensity that of Voldemort.

"How dare you!" she screeched, her voice a lot louder than she, or obviously he (since he covered his ears with his hands), was used to. The stunned expression on his face also showed this.

"What do you mean, how dare you? I kissed you, is that so wrong?" Draco asked. Pansy felt her anger growing. He didn't know what he had done was wrong? What kind of sick, twisted man was he? Even a Death Eater knew that playing with another Death Eater's emotions in such a way was only for Voldemort to do.

"You bloody well know what you did, you slimy bastard! You kissed me, that's what! You know how I feel about you, and yet you still continue to play with my emotions as though they were a little rag doll!"

"Play with your emotions? Bloody brilliant deduction that was, Pansy. I never knew that kissing someone you loved was playing with their emotions," Draco responded. He had bounced back quickly, as he always seemed to.

"But you don't love me Draco! That's the problem, you know! You just kissed me to, well, I don't know what you kissed me, but you bloody well knew that it was toying with my emotions!"

"Pansy, you talk about emotions as if I don't have any! Have you ever thought that perhaps I love you as well? Have I ever said to you outright that I do not love you?" When Pansy looked at him quizzically, he continued. "No, I haven't. So how do you know that I don't feel that way towards you?"

"Because you hate me," Pansy whispered feebly. She wasn't going to give up without a fight, and she certainly wasn't going to let on that Draco had a point. A valid point, and one that she would love to believe in. But, she knew that it wasn't true.

"I don't hate you Pansy! Why would I have spent nearly every waking moment with you for the past month if I hated you?" Draco asked, the pitch of his voice rising dangerously high.

"But you've always hated me," Pansy said, sounding stricken and alone. "Ever since 1st year, Draco. Ever since you realized that _I _was the Parkinson who you would be marrying. Ever since then, you've hated me. Don't deny it, because I know it's true."

"Yeah Pansy, of course I hated you, just like I hated everyone else. But I don't hate you any more, do I? Do you really think I would kiss someone like that if I hated them?" Pansy quirked an eyebrow, telling him that she did. "Honestly Pansy, your opinion of me has always been so low."

"And your opinion of me has always been lower." She wasn't going to let that go, was she?

"During Hogwarts, yes. Now, however, I see you in a completely different light."

"And what light would that be?" Draco rolled his eyes, stood up, and pushed Pansy against the wall.

"You're going to be the death of me one day, Pansy. What light do you think I'm talking about, you daft prat?" When he received no answer, he continued. "The kind of light that Potter sees that Weasel girl in, the kind of light that Weasley sees Granger in, and the kind of light your parents saw each other in. Now do you know what kind of light I'm talking about?"

"No." Pansy knew that he could see recognition in her eyes, but she wanted to make him say it. She wouldn't _really _believe it until the words came flying out of his mouth. And then she would catch them, just like he had caught the Golden Snitch, and she would put them in her heart so she would never forget.

Draco frowned slightly, but then smiled when it dawned on him what she was trying to do. "Honestly, you're do slow to let go of my hatred for you, Pansy. I would almost think that you thought of it as a safety net, something, one thing, unchanging in your life." When Pansy nodded, he realized that he was right.

"Please don't try so hard to dismiss my love," he whispered in her ear, his breath on her skin causing shivers to run up and down her spine. She smirked a little and turned his face so it would meet her own. She wasn't going to try so hard any more.


End file.
